


Sunshine in the Deep

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts 2: Because the old one is quite full [20]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age II Quest - The Deep Roads Expedition, Emotional Hurt, Gen, POV First Person, Regret, Survivor Guilt, Warden Bethany Hawke, blight sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.The infamous Deep Roads expedition in Dragon Age 2, from the point of view of one of the Hawke twins.Ava and Bethany Hawke joined an expedition to the Deep Roads hoping to score a find that would improve their family's standing in Kirkwall. Things did not go as planned, to say the least. After Bartrand's betrayal and fighting their way back to familiar ground in the Deep Roads, another surprise awaits the Hawke sisters and their companions.
Relationships: Bethany Hawke & Female Hawke
Series: Reddit Prompts 2: Because the old one is quite full [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918846





	Sunshine in the Deep

I could feel it, gnawing on me from the inside out. I did what I could to keep it concealed. No need to draw attention, not right now. Ava had enough on her plate. I knew she was stressed, even if she kept cracking jokes between fights with darkspawn and the other creatures that called these long-forgotten subterranean ruins home. Her mask wasn’t as good as she thought it was, not with me. I could see in the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, the slight hints of worry that wrinkled her brow, the way she moved her body like a cat staking out a mouse. Her act could and did fool Gamlen, and even Mother sometimes, but not me and Carver.

_Oh, Carver._ It still hurt to think about. Perhaps it was stupid, but it honestly felt like a part of me disappeared when he died. I squeezed my eyes shut and cursed myself for not having the courage to protect Mother from that ogre back in Ferelden. Maker only knew how many times I’d had that train of thought over the years, I’d lost count long ago. Perhaps I could’ve survived, I was the one with magic, after all! This curse of mine should’ve been good for something at least once in my life! Carver was the brave one, the one with the will to stand up to people. Me? I did what I was always taught to do: hide, become small and unassuming. I opened my eyes and began leaning on my staff more as I walked with the group.

Carver wouldn’t have hesitated to come along on this expedition. He was always so brave and full of this need to prove himself. I wish he’d known that he didn’t need to prove a thing to any of us. Not to me, not to Ava, not to Mother. Perhaps he and I weren’t so different. I’d begged my sister to let me come along. I was so tired of always being the millstone around our family’s necks. I thought I could do more good helping this expedition than if I stayed home waiting for the templars to come knocking on uncle Gamlen’s door. While I’m pretty certain he’d never sell me out, that didn’t apply to any of our neighbors in Lowtown. Perhaps… perhaps I wanted to do this for the both of us, Carver and me.

Maker, it was so cold. My breath was getting more and more difficult to catch. It was hard keeping up with them. The aching was spreading, wrapping me up like a blanket, only it made you colder rather than warmer. I caught Anders peering at me from the corner of my eye. His brows were lightly furrowed and his eyes seemed to be crinkled with worry. Did he suspect…?

“This part looks familiar,” Ava said as she held up her hand, signaling us to stop. We were at the top of yet another flight of stone stairs.

“We’re back where we started, and in only five days. Not bad, eh?” Varric replied.

A wave of dizziness hit me. Sod it.

“Could we… slow down? I’m not feeling very well.”

Anders drew nearer to me as soon as the words left my mouth. He looked as if he were getting ready to catch me in the event my feet gave out. Considering how unwell I was feeling, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

Ava turned around, looking me over. “Let’s make camp if you’re sick.”

Varric chuckled and pulled out a bit of flint and tinder from one of his many pockets. “I’ll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found.”

“No, I…” and then my feet gave out as another wave of dizziness hit me. I could see the look of shock on Varric’s face. Before I could hit the ground, I felt a pair of hands catching me just under my arms. Anders eased me to the ground.

“Bethany!” Ava raced over in a panic and knelt beside me. Her mask was completely gone, every bit of her riddled with worry. Maker, I must’ve looked almost as awful as I felt for that to happen. She held me in her arms like she used to do with Carver and me whenever we were sick at night as children.

That look in her eyes, it reminded me of how she looked when Carver was killed. Such pretty eyes. Silver like a witch’s eyes, or so the old scary stories told around campfires at night said. Sister’s eyes smiled and laughed whenever someone called her a witch. Her smile was always larger after punching the people who made those accusations. Mother said she’d gotten grandfather Amell’s eyes. No, the only magic the Maker saw fit to give my sister was her questionable sense of humor and her battle prowess. Father and I were the witches in the family. Granted, Father _hated_ that word. Most Circle mages did, according to him. Witches were reckless and untrained, he said, nothing at all like us. Maker, I missed him. I even missed his lectures and endless quizzing during our training sessions.

“It’s the blight. I can sense it,” Anders said in a grave tone.

_Well, then._ Perhaps I’d be seeing Father again.

“I’ll end up just like Wesley, won’t I?” My mind drifted back to the anguished look on Aveline’s face before she put her poor husband out of his misery. Templar or not, he didn’t deserve to suffer what the blight could do to people.

“There must be some other way!” Ava pleaded.

_Oh, sister. No. You’ve been carrying this weight for far too long._ Besides, I could feel myself getting worse by the hour, the pain and weakness tightening around me like a rope. I gave myself two days, at best.

“I’m not going to last until the surface. It’s coming on faster.” I wasn’t proud of the whimper in my voice, but by Andraste’s pyre, everything _hurt._

“There might be something we can do,” Anders said. Ava turned her gaze to him, he had her full attention. “I stole the maps from a Warden that had come to Kirkwall. I wanted to know if he was looking for me. He wasn’t. The maps were for planning their own expedition into the Deep Roads.”

“Does that mean the Grey Wardens are here?” Ava asked.

Maker, I hurt hearing the note of hope in her voice. It’d be too painful to see it dashed out when it all came to nothing. I was starting to accept the fact that I’d never see Mother or even uncle Gamlen again. Hope was inspirational at the best of times, but it was also cruel.

“If the Wardens are here, I know where. We could bring Bethany to them…” he said with growing confidence.

“And do what? Become a Grey Warden?” I asked. I wasn’t dead, yet. Perhaps it was hope or delirium, but something inside me wasn’t quite ready to accept death. My sister didn’t have all of the foolishness, after all.

“Is becoming a Grey Warden a cure?” Ava asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck before answering. “Yes, I suppose it is. But it’s not without a price – one not everyone is willing to pay.”

Ava glowered. “What price? Maker’s breath, spit it out!”

He sighed before meeting her gaze. “The process of becoming a Warden is… unpleasant. And irreversible. It also means you might never see your sister again. She might survive the blight but at the cost of becoming a Grey Warden. It’s not an easy life. Trust me.”

My sister furrowed her brows. “Time isn’t a luxury Bethany has. Let’s find them as soon as we can.”

**

“I think they’re nearby,” Anders said, peering down yet another debris-laden hallway. Inhuman growls rang out in reply. “Or it could be darkspawn.”

I tried my best to be useful during the fight, conjuring ice to make a pack of darkspawn near my sister slip. Then I flung a fireball at a pair of archers hanging back and firing arrows at us. If I were healthy, that wouldn’t have been much of a challenge. But I wasn’t. I was creeping closer to death and each spell took more effort and mana. Varric stuck close to me, firing off shots when he was able. Part of me regretted not challenging him to a shooting contest before the expedition; him using his crossbow, Bianca, and me using magic. It could’ve been fun.

Moments after Ava had cleaved the last of the darkspawn pack in two, the sounds of armored feet jogging closer captured our attention. There were three of them. The one in plate armor was a man with an impressive mustache and seemed to be the leader. The two behind him were women in dark leather armor and armed with bows; one human and the other an elf. The elven woman’s face was covered with ornate tattoos while the human wore a mask and hood that obscured all but her fiery amber eyes. The man came to a stop and held up his hand for his companions. There was recognition in his blue eyes as he took the few steps toward us.

“Anders,” he said flatly. He sounded Orlesian to my ears.

“Fancy meeting you here, Stroud,” the aforementioned mage replied with a nod.

Stroud folded his arms. “I could say the same. I thought you were through fighting darkspawn.”

“I’m not here to fight darkspawn. I came looking for you,” Anders answered.

Ava took one of my arms over her shoulder and helped me toward the small group of Grey Wardens. Everything hurt, but that little something – perhaps it was hope, perhaps it was madness – spurred me onward. Carver wouldn’t go down without a fight. Neither would I. Stroud turned his head and looked at me, a moment of surprise on his face that was quickly hidden away.

“You… mean this girl as a recruit?” he asked. He sighed and looked back at Anders. “Of course you do.”

He turned to face my sister and I. “I’m sorry. I know this comes as no comfort to you, but we do not recruit Grey Wardens out of pity. It is no kindness.”

“You think it’s kinder to let Bethany die from the blight?” Ava growled.

“Sometimes it is, yes.” the Warden replied.

“Stroud, trust me when I say this one is worth your time. With the blight over, I know you don’t have recruits lining up.” Anders said.

The Warden pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. “This is no simple thing, Anders. This may be as much a death sentence as the sickness, and you know it.”

“She’ll die anyway. Take her and try! I’m asking you!” the runaway Warden pleaded.

Stroud looked anything but pleased, clearly arguing with himself in his head before he spoke again. “Very well. I will try, but if I do this, then we are **even.** ” He turned to address my sister. “If the girl comes, she comes now, and you may not see her again. Being a Grey Warden is not a cure. It is a calling.”

My resolve began to fade. Could I do it? Could I spend the rest of my life fighting darkspawn? And whatever else it was that Wardens got up to? I looked Ava in the eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

“If this is the only way you can live, then it has to be,” she said.

I gathered what scraps of courage I could. I had to try. I didn’t want to die without seeing the sun again. It was up to the Maker if I survived whatever becoming a Warden entailed. Ava helped me walk toward the Wardens. The two women quickly took my arms over their shoulders. The elf wore a grim but resigned look on her face.

Stroud turned to address his companions. “We must move quickly if we are to make the surface in time.

I looked over my shoulder at Ava. Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks. “I guess this is it. Take care of Mother.”

**

It was a strange thing, being angry and numb at the same time. I’d been eager to put as much distance between me and the Deep Roads as possible the moment we smelled that first breath of fresh air that told us that the surface was moments away. Every step that took me closer to Kirkwall was fueled by fantasies of strangling the life out of Bartrand. Assuming Varric didn’t beat me to it, of course.

The moment we reached the city gates, my feet weren’t as eager to close the distance between myself and uncle Gamlen’s place. Between me and Mother… and having to tell her what happened. I lost track of how many times I cursed myself for not listening to Mother’s pleading before the expedition left. If I had only listened, just once, my sister would not be consigned to a life of hunting darkspawn. Or… dead. _Oh, Maker, please, let her live! Please!_ If Varric noticed that I was going at a snail’s pace, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Hawke-- Ava. I’m sorry. About your sister.”

First name. He was being serious, then. He rarely used my first name.

“Me, too, Varric. I’m not sure if I can even hope…”

“Blondie seemed pretty convinced she’d have a chance. Let’s not write any eulogies yet, alright?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think drafting Bartrand’s eulogy might be time well spent,” I said with a half-smile. Half a smile was all I could muster. I’d learned long ago to hide what my brother called my ‘murder face’ behind a smile.

He let out a half-hearted laugh. I could see the pain and anger in his eyes. “I’ll give you that one, Hawke. Bianca will want a few words with him, first.”

Eventually, we found ourselves in Lowtown, near the steps that led to Gamlen’s rat-hole of a flat. Varric reached up and gave the small of my back a pat.

“You know where to find me, if… well. You know where to find me, Hawke,” he said before his feet took him down the path to the Hanged Man and his suite.

I wanted to be anywhere else. Okay, maybe not back in the Deep Roads, but anywhere not right then and there would’ve been grand. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to run off and join a performing troupe? I swallowed the lump in my throat, climbed the stairs, and carefully opened the door.

Mother looked at the door and came running up to me and pulled me into her arms, not giving much of a damn that I was still in my armor.

“Oh, my baby! You made it home!” She pulled back and looked over my shoulder. “Bethany isn’t with you?”

My mask cracked. I felt my eyes watering. I looked to the ground and shook my head. “No.”

“Is she… coming back?”

“I… I don’t know.” Oh, Maker. I couldn’t look her in the eye. There must’ve been a leak in the roof because my cheeks were wet.

Mother fell to her knees and began sobbing. Gamlen and I awkwardly knelt beside her, resting hands on her back, not quite knowing what exactly to say.

_My fault. All of this was my fault._


End file.
